


Three Feet Taller than a Giraffe

by pantomimicry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Ducks, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantomimicry/pseuds/pantomimicry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of loosely tied one-shots set during Draco's youth. They're not necessarily linear but Draco's around fourish in all of them. They are glimpses into the typical trials of parenting, featuring Lucius and Draco. For funsies I periodically throw in a little Narcissa and Severus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Childhood Pets

"Please, please, please."

Lucius rubbed the bridge of his nose. Sixteen 'pleases' in less than ten minutes. His head throbbed again and he was temped beyond belief to stun his son into silence. He looked up sharply, his grey eyes meeting Draco's wide ones. "No, and this will be the last time I tell you. Out."

A funny combination of emotions rolled over the boy's features; he seemed to be willing submission from his father, but slowly he turned and stomped from the room.

Draco refused to have dinner that night or breakfast the following morning. Lucius would have been beat for skipping a meal and beat again for the simple rudeness of the action. At lunch he knocked gently on his son's door. He hadn't expected an answer. He expected Draco to pout and be insolent as he would have been as a child. He remembered wanting, just as Draco did now, a brother or a sister. His father had refused and offered no alternative companionship.

The little boy was curled into a corner of his room, between the wall and his dresser. He was bent awkwardly and Lucius felt sympathy pains for the crick the child would have in his neck when he stood. "Draco," he said softly.

His head shot up quickly, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. It was matted, his clothes rumpled and his black pants dust covered. " Sorry I slammed your door," he murmured.

The man's lips curved just slightly. He really was a polite little whelp. "Thank you." He reached out and brushed the hair from his son's eyes. They looked wider, far more innocent than he had ever seen them. Lucius dropped down to his son's level, resting his back against the adjacent wall.

"Why not?" Draco finally said; he didn't meet his father's eyes.

"I think one little brat is quite enough."

"Father." Draco had missed his father's sarcasm.

"Many children would give anything to be as fortunate as you are."

"Many children have a brother!" Draco scuttled from his corner, leaning into his father's side. "Just one, and even if it's a girl I won't complain. I promise, pretty please, daddy."

Lucius looked down at his son; his eyes weren't quite so colorless as his own, his hair straight like Narcissa's. Draco made it sound as if any child would do. Briefly he had a flash of his son walking through a nursery, critically searching for his new brother. The boy made a noise at his side. Lucius had been silent too long.

"Children do not come instantly. Don't you think, perhaps, you would grow bored waiting?"

He shrugged. "I don't have any friends. It's not fair, father."

Lucius rested his cheek against the top of his son's head. How easily children can break their parent's heart. It seemed devastating that a four year old could know such acute loneliness.  _I'm sorry._

 

 

The Menagerie: a huge glass building in the center of Diagon Alley that seemed to radiate happiness and wonder. Draco clung to his hand as he led him around. Many of the animals were larger and fiercer than he could have imagined. A tiger growled and he jumped a foot in the air. He was suddenly a toddler again wanting to be held by his father and burying his face within Lucius' neck, too afraid to even look at the potential pets.

Lucius stepped into a subdued room, enormous and bright. He turned so Draco's hidden face was facing the room. A foot landed hard against his stomach as Draco excitedly scrambled away from him to move closer to the baby animals. He touched a lion and a penguin, his small hands tentatively reaching out. He brought his face very close to a small lynx, whose fur was paler than Draco's skin.

It would be endearing to watch Draco grow with his familiar. He stepped to the side circling the room lazily. He was careful and just barely missed trampling a puff of black at his feet. The little ball had no discernible features; yet it let out a strangled "quack" as he lifted it. The creature took up only half of his palm and stayed firmly curled within itself, two little webbed feet quivering.

Draco walked forward sheepishly, a very unsteady giraffe wobbling behind. It was nearly three feet taller than his son but looked shy in its attempt to follow him. Lucius was sorely tempted to say no, but he had brought Draco here to find a companion. He would have to add an addition to the Manor to accommodate this particular one though.

"This one-"

"Quack," Draco looked wildly around. "Quack."

"What's that?"

"It would seem I have found a duckling." Lucius bent to Draco's level and opened his hands revealing the puff. It chose that moment to open its obsidian eyes and gaze directly into far paler ones.

The boy stoked a finger along the duckling's back. "Soft," he said quietly. He moved closer and the black puff bent towards him and gently snapped at Draco's nose. He smiled and pushed his face closer to the duck again. The puff extended and awkwardly stood in Lucius' palm.

Draco stepped in the circle of his arms and touched the duck's webbed feet, and they both watched as the puff did an odd little dance.

He rested his chin on the boy's thin shoulder for a moment. "You'll have to give him a name."

"Midnight."

 _Thank Merlin he picked something small._  Lucius cast an apologetic glance at the doe eyed giraffe before ushering his son from the animal nursery.


	2. Take Your Child to Work Day

At 4:34 Lucius felt the wards around Draco's room shift. At 4:36 he felt his son standing above him. He heard the whispering shushes he made to Midnight and felt his hot damp breath against his cheek. He smelled sweet and powdery and of mint from his toothpaste.

"Daddy," thin fingers lifted his eyelids, soft hair falling across his face.

"Good little boys do not wake their fathers before sunrise." He blinked up at his son and let his lips quirk up slightly.

"Ready for work."

"I can see that." He laughed sitting up on his elbow. Draco was badly dressed in a green button up and linen trousers; his hair uncombed and Midnight tucked into his breast pocket.

"Are we really going to work today?"

"Of course," he smiled.

"When," the boy asked, "now?"

"Certainly not now," he said.

He frowned, his lower lip jutting out. "But it's morning and you said. You said," he added thinly.

Lucius watched, amused, as Draco's compact frame nearly shook with incomprehension and fatigue. He sank down on the bed rigidly in the space Lucius just vacated. "I said morning. I did not say the crack of dawn. Perhaps when the sun comes up and we've had breakfast and sleep."

Draco grinned fiercely, tiny white teeth flashing when his voice broke into a wide yawn. "Is  **THAT**  soon?"

"Soon enough." He looked down as the boy's eyes fell shut and his chin slumped to his chest. With careful maneuvering he lifted Draco to his chest and held him in place with one hand on his bottom. "Here we go," he murmured. The duckling quacked twice, gently. "Hush," he added.

Draco's room was dark with scattered moonlight slanting in from the high windows but he moved easily to the bed. Lucius settled Midnight on a pillow and gathered the boy's pajama's to him. Across the room he could see pieces of Draco's outfit neglected on an armchair: a narrow striped tie, the small black belt, argyle socks and soft leather loafers. He'd dragged Lucius through his closet everyday for a week modeling his clothes, discarding and appraising with the eye of a tailor. Narcissa charmed the grandfather clock in his room to count down the days when it became clear that he would ask every day. The little boy was so excited, nearly bouncing around the manor.

Lucius redressed Draco in his pajamas; they were so small and for a moment he couldn't imagine himself as a child. He couldn't imagine himself as frail or lost or innocent. Before he left he stroked the wispy hairs from his son's forehead and shook his head. What an impudent child, his child.

 

At 8:15 Lucius woke Draco. His eyes were dull with sleep but an instant later he was up and moving haphazardly around the bathroom. He emerged ten minutes later hair half-combed, shirt untucked, tooth paste still clinging to the corners of his mouth. "Ready."

"Perhaps not," he said wiping at the white foam with a finger.

Draco's face crumpled looking the long way up to his father's eyes. "Now what," he moaned.

He sat on the arm of a chair and gave the boy a push back towards the bathroom. "Brush properly and bring me the comb."

He laughed lightly but schooled his features when the boy returned corners of his mouth turned down in a deep frown. He stood patiently in front of his father as Lucius pulled gently at his tangles until finally the younger blonde looked presentable. "Noww," he said not looking up.

"Socks, shoes, tie and maybe we can match the buttons to the appropriate holes…"

Draco followed Lucius' gaze down to his uneven shirt tails and sighed loudly and dramatically. "Father." He sounded like Narcissa at her most impatient and his look was all weary theatrics. A four year old thinking he could play Hamlet.

Finally, finally Draco struggled free of Lucius' grip as he pulled the last knot of the tie into place. He stood by the door; Midnight cradled in his palm and huffed hard as Lucius slowly straightened. He enjoyed watching his son's apprehension, the tight pull of muscles and narrowed eyes. It could have been him thirty years ago. Only his father never laughed with him, but always found him constantly amusing.

Draco forgot his anger over breakfast and both he and Narcissa reminded him several time to chew with his mouth closed. He spoke incessantly to them, to Midnight, to the house elves. He would never have said but Lucius was touched by his son's enthusiasm. He would not have called his days at the Ministry work but he would admit to a certain talent for government, for manipulation on a grand scale. He wondered if one day his large corner office could be Draco's.

"Done," Draco announced and taking pity on him Lucius stood as well downing the last sip of coffee.

 

Narcissa stood in front of them still only partially dressed but beautiful and poised. Draco smiled like her, honest and wide. "Darling, be polite and please keep your tie and shoes on. And-"

"Mummy," Draco's voice was high and tense like he didn't want to be embarrassed but knew the instructions needed to be given.

"And," Narcissa continued with an indulgent smile, "Stay close to your father. You're far too small to be wandering about alone." She took a satchel from a waiting house elf. Inside she packed several toys, picture books and assorted snacks before placing Midnight in the large front pocket, the duck's bill barely visible. She stepped forward hugging Draco and kissing both of his cheeks.

He pulled away slightly looking up at Lucius quickly. "Okay, Mummy." He waited for his mother to help him with the bag before tugging on Lucius' hand. "We're never getting there."

Lucius leaned back to catch Narcissa's cheek with his lips even as he allowed himself to be pulled towards the floo. In one smooth motion he swung Draco into his arms and tossed a pinch of powder into the fire. "Ministry of Magic, Atrium," he murmured. He tugged on the wards gently as they swirled away, satisfied that they snapped instantly into place.

"We're here, right?" Draco asked, his voice echoing off of the black marble, and head turning wildly to watch the passing wizards.

"Yes, Draco," his voice light and kind, "we're here."

For a instant the boy knitted his brows together and he rested his head on Lucius' shoulder. "Finally."


	3. Thunderstorms and Children

Their bed is a vast expanse and if, from the edges, they both stretched their hands still would not meet in the middle. But Narcissa sleeps curled against his side, her breathing light and even. The first crack of thunder startles her and does not wake him. She touches his shoulder gently as a brilliant light flashes across their bedroom turning them into silhouettes. The second crack of thunder is a hollow echo that bounces around their walls.

"Lucius," Narcissa says. He groans rolling them on their sides. "Go check on Draco." She murmurs.

"He will be fine. The storm is moving around us."

She tilts her head around but his eyes are firmly closed, his face pressed against her hair. "Lucius." Her voice is sleepy and annoyed and when he still doesn't look up she digs a nail into his forearm.

He crosses his arms around her body letting their hands twine together. "I've left the door open."

 

Narcissa moves erratically beside him, shuffling Draco and Midnight into the space between them. "Draco," he growls as a sharp elbow lands in his stomach. Against him the boy is giggling into the heavy blankets.

"Hush," Narcissa tells them both.

She brushes the fringe from his forehead, and tucks him into her side. "Mummy," he says. His whisper is loud because children never realize that everyone can hear them. "Mummy, I wasn't scared."

"But Midnight was," she says helpfully.

"He doesn't like storms and he kept me awake."

"Well I think he's safe with us, hm?"

"I think I should stay too," Draco says, "to make sure."

Narcissa's voice is soft and amused. "If you insist darling."

He looks over Draco's head and meets her eyes, lifting an eyebrow made silver in the stormy light. Her smile is indulgent as if he were the child afraid of the thunder and streaks of lightening. He sighs reaching out idly to stoke Draco's cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Mummy-"

"Go to sleep, Draco," he says quietly.

"Midnight wants a glass of water, though." The boy turns, kicking out as he struggles to see Lucius' face.

"Midnight is asleep. And you should be as well. Now hush if you want to stay." He touches Draco's cheek again, tossing an arm over his eyes.

It seems enough to pacify his son who shifts a last time so that he is pressed into his side, his short blond hair falling over Lucius' chest. Near his head Midnight is a black puff hardly recognizable in the dark.

 

In the dawn light the rain is a rough patter against his windows that cast soft round shadows. They are a tangle of limbs across the bed with Draco sprawled diagonal between he and Narcissa. His feet brush Lucius' shoulder and somewhere beneath the sheets his head is buried at Narcissa's feet. He closes his eyes again, running his hands through the soft down of Midnight's back. He wonders how parents always end up on the very edge of the bed.

 


	4. Child's Play

 

 

Lucius stands with his back to the study door. He can feel Severus' gaze on him, intense and amused.

"Daddy, count." Draco's tone is full of command. "Severus, you have to cover your eyes too."

Severus moves closer to him and though he doesn't sigh, Lucius can sense his body uncoil. He imagines the bored satisfaction on Snape's swallow features. "Must I?" Snape asks.

"Daddy!"

"Severus," Lucius says.

"It's cheating if you don't."

"For the love of Merlin, Severus." Lucius leans a hip against his desk. One hand is still covering his eye; nevertheless he raises his eyebrow.

Draco buries his face in Lucius' thigh. He feels the first wave of a tantrum coming on, lightening quick and equally as unpleasant. "You promised one game," he says to Severus. Midnight quacks in affirmation somewhere below his arm.

"But I did not say which game," Snape says.

He has the urge to leave them together: a stubborn man, a petulant child, and a duckling. Instead he reaches out blindly and touches cottony robes on a skeletal frame. Severus snorts but he feels the shifting robes beneath his fingers. He gives Draco a gentle push.

 

Lucius counts to three before Draco realizes they've started the game. As they leave his study, Draco and Midnight are an odd combination of noises: the dull whoosh of linen mingled with the unpracticed beating of wings.

 "Your child is obstinate and spoiled," Severus says.

They are standing in the doorway, listening to the tiptoeing of Draco, which is not so quiet, or so inconspicuous.

Lucius smiles easily, charmingly. "No more so than you." He looks up at the ceiling as if he can see Draco and Midnight. But it is impossible to know exactly where they are. Their sounds are erratic and thunderous. He raises his voice. "Fifteen…sixteen…-"

"This game is idiotic."

"Good heavens, Severus." They are particularly loud as they climb to the first landing. "Twenty," Lucius says.

"We're not ready." Draco's voice is a floor below them, behind them. Beside him, Snape is smirking, rolling his eyes skyward.

Lucius speaks sternly, indulgently. "You have until the count of ten to hide."

"Are your eyes still closed?" Draco asks.

"I am going to hex him," Severus says quietly.

Lucius begins again.

 

Snape's own instinct to hide, to exist constantly in shadows, makes him a good seeker. It helps perhaps, that Draco and Midnight are extraordinarily bad hiders. They find the boy and his duck in the library. Two webbed feet shuffle below the burgundy drapes and pale hands grip the edge of an oversized chair.

"We've lost them," Severus says. His tone is bland as he steps toward the chair. Draco's giggle bounces around the room, light and childishly high pitched. He peeks out around the chair's arm, and they turn away to the windows.

"Perhaps the gardens," Severus says.

Lucius crosses to the window, kneeling in front of Midnight's feet. He taps one foot and the duck twitches away. "Although-,"Lucius reaches out abruptly, throwing the curtains aside. Midnight waddles in circles, quacking fiercely. He is temporarily lost without Draco and unsure if they have won or lost the game.

"You cheated," Draco says.

He leaps from behind the chair but Severus is quicker. He hauls the boy up and flips him so that he is hanging upside down between them. "We counted to thirty, Mr. Malfoy. I believe that is more than fair." Snape's speaks with a sarcastic affection that seems to have been waiting in the wings the entire afternoon.

"I know you peeked."

"I did no such thing," Severus says reasonably. He sways Draco back and forth, the boy's blonde hair gently sweeping the floor.

"Yes, you did. I know you did." His voice is tainted with wild laughter as Severus moves to the center of the room, swinging Draco in a wider, higher arch.

"Do not make him ill, Severus."

Snape begins to spin and the boy moves up and down, round and round. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Lucius strokes Midnight's back and the duckling flutters excitedly. For a moment, as Midnight flaps twice, he and Draco hoover together, innocent and delightful in their joy. "You realize now he will never be afraid of you, Severus?"

Snape is not listening though; he is charming in his youthful old age, in his discomfort suddenly transformed into wary pleasure. They spin faster, propelled and controlled by magic, a swirl of charcoal and cream.

 


	5. Of Playground Wars and Jealous Children

 

 

 

**Step 1: Confidence, I think I can, I think I can.**

Lucius watches Draco and Midnight from the veranda; they are black and white dots against the garden, stark and full of movement. Occasionally he hears Draco's voice, loud and bossy, and Midnight's answering quack. They are in a low tree, Midnight cupped in Draco's palms.

"One, two, GO!" Draco lifts his palms quickly and Midnight is meant to let go. But the duckling shifts forward, giving a strangled quack as it struggles to stay within the boy's hands.

"Jump," Draco says. He pokes the duck and sighs. "I'll do it too." They reposition on the branch so that Draco is poised to leap. "One." He lowers his hand and raises it slowly. "Two, ready? Three. Jump, Midnight!" Draco throws his hand in the air and flaps his free hand wildly when he plunges from the tree. Draco lands on his stomach; Midnight is attached to Draco's finger by the very tip of his bill.

Lucius is half way to them before Draco begins to sit up. "He's broken, " Draco says.

Lucius pulls Draco up and into his arms. "Certainly not, Draco." He looks down at the boy, covered in loose grass and terrified that his duckling won't fly. "I wonder though, if tossing him in the air and shouting 'fly!' is the best technique."

"Could I flap his wings for him?"

He quickly he closes his eyes. "Perhaps you can learn to fly with him."

"By myself," Draco says. His voice is high and panicky. He looks up, past Lucius' shoulder to the cloudy blue sky.

"Midnight has to fly by himself." Lucius raises an eyebrow.

"But he has wings."

"And we shall have brooms." He jostles his arms slightly. "Have confidence, Draco, and Midnight will as well."

**Step 2: The Basics-lift, drag and magic.**

Lucius cannot help but laugh. Midnight and Draco stand on opposite sides of him, each just as reluctant to learn as the other.

Draco eyes the broom beside their feet, nudging the brittle twigs of the bristles. He glances sideways at Midnight. "This is your fault."

Midnight quacks, as if to say 'is not' and snaps at the finger Draco reaches out to poke him.

Lucius is tempted to leave them here, resentful and unwilling. The sky is a pale, clear blue and today is good day to fly, a good day to create a fond memory.

His father was an austere man, who thought brooms were a peasant's way to travel but he taught Lucius to fly anyway. The lesson, like his father, was gruff and brisk. He remembers his father's hands lifting him, steading him on the suspended broom. It was safe, for a moment, and then Abraxas let go and Lucius was no more than a scared child moving too quickly through the sky. He was so high and his father was a slim shadow across the lawn. But, he had not known then that his father was guiding the broom from below. Abraxas was always in control, always protecting his son. When Lucius touched down roughly he was trembling but he did not cry.

"Some things we learn because they could keep us alive." His father had said.

The sky now is the same shade of blue as his father's eyes all those years ago. In the pit of his stomach is something close to panic and it mixes sharply with anticipation. Draco shuffles nearer to him, his hands balled into fist at his sides.

He nudges Draco away and closer to his broom. "Step up," he says, "right hand out. "

"I know, Daddy." Draco mimics Lucius. He stretches his hand out, standing on the left side. "Up, " he says just as he has seen Lucius demonstrate countless times.

The broom wavers, hovering centimeters and then a meter off of the ground, but not quite coming to Draco's hand. The broom drops finally and Draco looks up helplessly.

"Try again, " Lucius says.

"Up." His voice is forceful and thin as if it cost him everything to lace his tone in command. The broom snaps up so quickly Draco is still watching the ground for movement and belatedly his closes his hand around the handle.

"Um-"

"Be brave, Draco."

"But what if I start to g-go up?"

Lucius smiles, touching he errant hairs at the nape of his son's neck. "I'm here." Draco remains firmly on the ground though, unconvinced of something with the broom quivering in his hand. On his other side Midnight is hesitate as well. He picks him up quickly, waving his hand over the duckling until a faint shimmer appears. "Watch," he says to Draco.

Draco is still pouting but he reluctantly lifts his head; children cannot help but be curious. With two sets of eyes firmly on him he lets his hand drop away. Midnight hoovers in the air but it is all happening so quickly that he only has a moment to be frightened before amazement takes over. Draco too is amazed. He touches Midnight's feet and it is as if they have both been shocked. Midnight wiggles in the air, his wings flapping experimentally.

He propels Midnight higher until Draco is stretching to reach him, until he is a black spot on the blue horizon, until Draco is looking up longingly and Lucius knows he has piqued his interest. "He's not scared?" Draco looks between himself and Midnight, eyes soft and expectant. He is not entirely sure if he is asking a question or proclaiming his resolve.

Midnight drifts down to them again. A breeze ruffles their hair. He is still flapping enthusiastically even when his feet touch down in the grass. For a brief second he lifts from the ground of his own volition, the shimmer-Lucius' magic -keeping him safe but not aloft.

"Look," Draco says. Midnight gets no more than a few centimeters from the ground but Draco is right there, lying in the grass looking at the space between Midnight and the ground. "He's doing it."

Draco is almost more excited than Midnight but the anger will come later. They run the width of the front garden and periodically when the wind is at their backs and Midnight turns his wings just so, he will lift off, forging ahead of Draco in a graceless, innocent flight.

Lucius sighs. The broom is abandoned at his feet, but he did not expect it to be so easy.

**Step 3: Training Wheels- "promise not to let go!"**

Draco is badly behaved for several days following Midnight's successful first flight. He refuses to see Midnight, who in turn is just as obstinate and Lucius has a shadow of a shadow. They are a pretty pair and Lucius is exhausted with their petulance.

"It really is silly," Narcissa says.

They are siting in the garden. In the distance Draco is playing in the sand on the edge of the stream. They can see Midnight several paces away hidden partially behind a tree. Draco has set up a rudimentary trap and should Midnight move within three meters of him, the ring of twigs surrounding him will snap.

"Hardly."

"Darling." Narcissa looks at him, teacup halfway to her lips. Her eyes go soft and she reaches her free hand out to touch his knee. "He needs a rival." She smiles gently watching Midnight creep closer to the circle of twigs. He has not quite figure out that his wings are good for more than idle flapping. "They'll patch things up. Children always do, love."

He nods absently, his eyes looking past her to Draco and Midnight. He remembers the painful process of making friends, of interacting with children either too poor or uncouth to meet his parent's approval. He was left to socialize with the children of his parent's friends and their encounters were always stoic and house elf supervised.

Draco looks over his shoulder and catches Midnight edging closer. He sends the duckling a glare so withering it could cut stone. For a moment Draco's features are too sharp, too nasty. He reminds Lucius of his father. The air of distain never fully left his father, not even now that he is retired but still as contentious and powerful as ever.

Draco leaves the bank of the stream, brushing past Midnight like so much dust in the road. He leans against Lucius' garden chair pressing his face into his shoulder like he is worn out. But it must be a full time job avoiding an imprinted duckling.

"I can do it now," he says, "I'm not scared."

"-no-"

"-of course not darling-" Narcissa purses her lips, looking at him sharply.

"I'm really not." Draco says again but his tone distinctly lacks conviction.

Nevertheless he summons two brooms and Narcissa kisses them both for luck before they set out across the garden. Quietly Midnight follows them.

It begins with a fall.

Draco is two meters up and rising, too far for Lucius to reach but not so very high. Draco looks down when Lucius looses his grip on the boy's ankle. He tilts sharply to the left, and then to the right as he over corrects. Had Draco not been so scared it would have been amusing. But the look on his face is sheer terror. His eyes are shut as he blindly seesaws.

"Be still," Lucius says.

"I'm falling." Draco is shouting, voice high and thready in his panic.

"Nothing is happening, Draco." He's neither falling nor rising because Lucius has tight control over the broom, and only lets it rock to teach him a little control.

Draco opens his eyes. The rolling has lessened and he manages to find his balance. He leans forward gently and the broom jerks forward a few horizontal centimeters. "Daddy!"

"I see you," he says. He also sees Midnight waddling towards them flapping vehemently and finally gaining altitude.

Draco looks down, his face so triumphant that he has conquered his fears that he forgets he is jealous of Midnight for flying first. He makes a wide stuttering victory circle. Though his balance is precarious and Lucius still steadies him magically Draco is full of pride and wonder. With a child's typical bravado, he angles down, closer to Midnight and slides right off of the end of the broom handle. He lands on Lucius with a loud thump but he is nearly humming with excitement. He is shaking and laughing hard enough that tears run down his cheeks. Just as awkwardly Midnight stops flapping and lands in a summersault on Draco's chest, two webbed feet waving erratically in the air.

When Draco has righted himself and Midnight, he mounts the broom again fearlessly. He is off before Lucius has stood up fully, zipping across the garden too close to the ground and then too far from it for his comfort. "I want to show Mummy." He darts through the air without any finesse and Midnight alternately waddles and flies behind him until at last, with a flick of Lucius' wand, he soars beside Draco.

Lucius catches them easily, Draco falling and leveling off every few paces. He tucks Midnight into his shirt pocket saving the poor creature from exhaustion. He guides Draco to a slower speed though he can see that he is itching to fly faster and higher as if he has been flying for decades and not ten minutes.

Narcissa is waiting for them on the veranda, standing and clapping for Draco. He lands messily half tumbling, half running into Narcissa's arms. "I told you I wasn't scared!"

"I knew you weren't, Darling."

"Did you believe in me?"

She kisses each cheek and then the tip of Draco's nose. He blushes a bright pink but his grin is infectious. Draco drags Lucius down to him and pulls Midnight from his pocket. He tickles his chest sweetly. "We did it!" Midnight quacks in affirmation, his entire bottom wobbling in pleasure.

"Look at him. Look at him," Draco says, as if neither of them as seen Midnight fly. But, he is genuinely pleased with the both of them and eager now to show off his companion.

Draco raises his hands high and Midnight shuffles to the edge of his palms. "One," Draco says, "twothreeFLY!" He rushes through the count and drops his hands away abruptly but Midnight is ready. He beats his wings, small and delicate, until he isn't so much falling through the air but hovering. When Midnight drops back into Draco's hands he holds him close pressing his face into his down.

Narcissa leans close to him whispering furtively. "Did I see Draco fall earlier?"

"He was doing his first nose dive." He smiles wickedly at her, rocking them playfully from side to side by her hips.

She pushes him away but she isn't quick enough to hide her answering smile. "Wipe that grin off of your face this instant, Lucius."

He hears  _I'm proud of you_ and _I told you so_ and  _I love you_ and  _our son is perfect_ but he does not hear genuine scorn. They are laughing quietly to themselves, thoroughly in love and when they look over it is in time to see Draco and Midnight in the grass below them giggling –quacking- madly.

It ends with a fall.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The duck described in this story is a Black Indian Runner Duckling.


End file.
